Nothing Personal
by A'isha Ishtar
Summary: A stylish automobile with another side to him, who's not exactly safe while street racing. She appreciates his beauty, but unfortunately as much of an admirer as she is, she's got to pay rent. With her habit of tearing cars apart, it's not too hard to make ends meet. Still, this car... isn't like any other one she's ever taken apart. Knock Out/OC
1. Chapter 1

**BWAHAHAHA. I HAVE SO MANY UNFINISHED STORIES THAT I SHOULDN'T EVEN BE STARTING THIS.**

**But, just so you know, it's totally my friend's fault. We were talking about it today, and he got my ass motivated. I came up with this random idea last night while drifting off to an episode of Psych. They mentioned something about a... well, I'll let you guys see for yourself. I wouldn't want to spoil anything, now would I?**

**Well, I don't own Knock Out. Or Transformers. Or anything Transformers-related except this little toy of Bayverse Barricade I have sitting next to me. (And I don't even own that. THAT'S my brother's.)**

**I feel like this is more realistic as far as TFP is concerned, so I hope you all enjoy it! I tried just a bit of a different writing style than I usually do.**

**Many reviews ahoy!**

* * *

As far as Vanessa was concerned, this was the hottest day ever in Jasper's entire _history._

She just considered herself lucky that the boys were back at the shop, and she could be outside today. Inside that shop, the temperature probably averaged at least ten degrees above what it was outdoors; whereas out here, there was always the chance of an errant breeze. Especially now that she was out at the street track, standing around waiting for the next race to begin.

The last race had only lasted five minutes and was hardly anything special. A cookie cutter race for possession of the competitor's car. It was only two - junkers, she called them. One a barely-running green Toyota Camry with what sounded like a dying battery, the other a Chevy Corvette that had so many scratches she couldn't tell what color its original paint job had been. The Camry's driver, "Speed Bump," had trouble getting the engine started, and by the time he finished, the Corvette's driver, "Captain Kirk," was busy flirting with a couple of cheerleaders. What a bragger, she thought, when his ride didn't look much better than the car he'd won. But of course, to each his own.

This next race was going to start in a few minutes, and there were three cars. This time it was for glory, not trophies. The cars didn't look _too_ bad this time around. A black Mazda MX-5 with a fair share of dents... a silver Porsche Carrera with a shoddily looked after paint job... and, interestingly enough, a show-worthy Aston Martin DBS V12 on the end. That last one was the only one that Vanessa thought the owner ought to be bragging about; it had a beautiful, cherry-red finish that any girl would think herself lucky to be washing. Clearly, the driver prided himself on the appearance of his ride. (Or, maybe he was just arrogant.)

She had to grin, because if she were even in that game anymore, she would have _loved_ to get that racer's number. Based on his car, he _had_ to be gorgeous himself.

"Hey, baby, you wanna drive circles around _my_ racetrack?"

She ignored the loser on her left, who wasn't even making any sense with that dumbass pick-up line, and took a few steps to the side to get a better look at the Aston Martin. She could hear its engine rumbling in anticipation of the referee's starting gun, and it certainly sounded powerful. The windows were tinted almost black, so she couldn't see in to get a peek at the driver. She didn't even really care about that though. Maybe if this guy lost, she could talk to him about taking that pretty ride off his hands. After all, that was why she came to these things, to get business. And something like this, well... altogether it could probably get her $3000, easy.

The other rides here didn't even measure up to this lovely, valuable little muscle car.

The ref's girlfriend shouted through her electronic megaphone to grab everyone's attention. "Who is ready to have some fun today?!" she yelled.

Vanessa just crossed her arms as the crowd around her offered a moderate cheer. There were a couple of idiots on the other side of that loser who'd been flirting with her, and they were doing a version of "the wave" that made it all too obvious that they were drunk. She rolled her eyes and gave a small smile as the Aston Martin's driver cockily revved his engines to show off. She had to admit, for all his apparent haughtiness, he had some spunk. A cool car with stylish rims and a kicking paint job was great and all, but it was nice to know that its owner, unlike innumerable other racers, didn't think his ride took the place of good old-fashioned guts.

"Ref GF" emitted another screech through her megaphone. "Alright, it is _on!_" she called, throwing one hip to the side and gesturing to the cars. First up, the MX-5. "On this end we have the calm, the collected - Back in Black!"

A brief flash of applause, and she switched her hand to point at the Carrera. "And in the middle, introducing... the debut of a new racer, the Silver Fairy!" There wasn't much excitement for that racer, save for the freaks on the end hooting drunkenly and the loser wolf-whistling.

Ref GF sighed at their behavior, but perked up as she swept her hand over toward the Aston Martin. "And up here on the end rounding it out, we have the experienced and unmistakable _Knock Out!_" That caused a bit of a roar, as obviously this guy had raced here before and, by the sound of the cheers, he was good.

Vanessa tossed her ponytail and stepped back a little, still eyeing the Aston Martin. _Knock Out, huh?_ she thought with a smirk. _Well, from the look of your ride... yeah, I'd say that's about right._

"Get your asses in gear, racers!" The ref stepped up, snaked his arm around his girlfriend's waist, and raised his gun. "Ready..."

The other cars' engines roared to life, though they still weren't comparable to the noise coming from the Aston Martin. It even made her shiver a little.

"Set..."

Vanessa bit her lip and kicked up some dust toward the Aston Martin. "Good luck, kid," she muttered, rubbing her arm. She had a feeling that since this guy was apparently good, he wasn't gonna be losing and she wasn't going to be getting any business. But still, she wanted to see how he did. She hadn't lost her enthusiasm for the sport, and this guy had caught her interest.

"_Go!_" The ref fired a single, cracking shot into the air.

Predictably, "Knock Out" peeled out first, and he must have been doing at least 70, maybe more. Back in Black followed not long after, and the Silver Fairy was dead last. _With a name like that,_ she thought, snickering. _Fucking rookie._

The tension rose as she watched Knock Out take the first turn with extreme ease, never once veering off the course his mind had obviously set. She had to let her mouth fall in appreciation for the way this guy raced. He made it look so effortless, and... the car's rims actually _flashed_ as he sped past. She whistled lowly, shaking her head. "I hate to admit it, but your car is smokin', Knock Out," she chuckled, digging her fingernails into her arm as her eyes struggled to keep up with him. "I would love to see what kind of upholstery you got in _there._"

Knock Out took the next turn just as well as the first, but Vanessa noticed Back in Black catching up to him - while Silver Fairy was still struggling to stop eating their dust. She raised an eyebrow as she saw Back in Black edging up beside Knock Out, getting progressively closer to the red car, as if they were going to... _Shit!_ Her eyes widened, but she berated herself because she really shouldn't have been surprised. Back in Black was cheating, which would never fly in a real race, except this wasn't a real race. Out here on the streets, it was a common occurrence, and something to resort to if you saw that you were losing.

She hated to see a pretty car like that get in a wreck, but she was getting excited now because if it got totaled, maybe then she could talk the guy into letting her have it for cheap.

She was squeezing her arm with one hand now, and gritted her teeth as she saw Back in Black move in for the kill. He bumped Knock Out's car on the side once, and Knock Out tried to speed up, but Back in Black moved away, then rammed the side of the Aston Martin. The action sent it flying off the track, and it even _rolled._ Vanessa had to wince just a little - _that_ kind of force really hadn't been necessary. Was the guy even okay? That kind of wreck could've killed him.

Half a minute later, Back in Black raced out over the finish line, and Vanessa casually slipped behind the loser and the drunk guys, then made a sprint over for the Aston Martin. If Knock Out hadn't been hurt, maybe she could play the nice girl route and offer to help him out of this hard spot.

And if not, well... her kind of business had never exactly run on morals.

* * *

_Scrap! Fragging skinjob!_ Knock Out's small shriek came over his radio as that other car plowed into him and sent his alt mode rolling off the side of the track.

He honestly would have fought back and given that idiotic skinjob what was coming to him, if he could have gotten out of that mess without transforming. As it was, the hit had caused damage to more than just his paint job. It had _hurt,_ and in his disorientation trying to recover from the pain, he couldn't steer himself back onto the road. The fall into the small ditch had hurt even worse, and by the time he could even think about getting back up, most of his frame was in pain. He tried spinning his tires, but even though he'd landed the right way, it didn't look like he was going anywhere.

"Slagging humans," he growled through the radio, revving his engine and trying to make his tires work. "Every one of them, I swear to Primus I'm going to..."

He quickly shut up when he saw a young human woman running toward him. What was she doing? Helping him? _Ha!_ He didn't need some human's help. _Then again,_ he thought bitterly, spinning his tires again, _I AM in a bit of a... predicament... here._

As she got closer, he could see her better and remembered that she'd been watching the race from the sidelines. Blonde hair, wearing a tank top and jeans - nope, there was no mistaking that _she'd_ been the one who wished him good luck. _While aiming some dust at my finish!_ he added with a scoff.

She slid down the side of the track, down into the little ditch, and landed on her feet with a hand on the ground for balance. "Well well," he heard her call as she started walking toward him. "What a sexy ride you've got there, Knock Out."

If he could have rolled his optics, he would have. His holoform wasn't functional, so if she was expecting to find someone inside, she was about to be disappointed. Humans with their foolish assumptions!

She put her hand on his door handle, and he shuddered slightly; her touch was freezing! How could she be that cold when his sensors were telling him it was almost 100 degrees out here? Did she have some sort of imbalance? She pulled his door open, and blinked a few times. "Knock Out? Huh," she mumbled, sticking her head inside. "He must've ran off after the crash."

She slid inside, on top of his driver's side seat, and if he wasn't worried he would have given a purr of appreciation. While her weight wasn't disproportionate to her height, she wasn't stick-thin either. Her curves felt rather like they just _fit_ against him. She caressed his steering wheel with both hands, nodding. She stretched up to look at her face in his rearview mirror, and grinned when she saw herself. "_Bitchin'!_"

Was that a good thing? He thought it was by the way she said it and her facial expression, but he couldn't be sure. He was surprised a little when she took one hand off the wheel and rested it on his gearshift. Her grip was firm and confident, and it wasn't exactly the worst feeling in the world when she moved the shift back and forth. He knew to her it was a simple matter of that she was searching for the right driving mode, but to him it felt very nice indeed. He'd almost forgotten how something like this felt, probably because it wasn't often that he had a human in his interior to manually work his controls.

She must have found the mode she was looking for, because she took her hand off his gearshift and closed his door. She grasped his steering wheel tightly and pressed her foot down on his gas pedal. She did it just a little too hard, and it shocked him when he began going backwards. The girl squealed happily as she slammed down on the brake. _Ow ow ow!_ He winced. _For Primus's sake, if you're going to dig me out, do it __**gently,**__ you glitch!_

"Aw yeah!" She pressed down on the gas pedal again, much lighter this time. She eased him out of the hole, then put her hand back on the gearshift and roughly pushed it into park - which, again, _was painful._ She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, then hit a button and held it up to her ear.

After a minute of her fondling his steering wheel, she spoke. "Yo, Tony. How're things going over there? Ugh, him again? Yeah, no, just tell him that's all I can give him. And if he doesn't want to accept my generous offer, you tell him his ass can take it up with my foot when I get back. Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyway, I just found a great car. Aston Martin DBS V12, red paint job, _amazing_ condition if you don't account for the fact that it just got in a wreck. I'm bringing it back to the shop, okay? Get my tools out, this thing's a beauty and I'm just itching to get my hands on it. Okay, thanks. See ya."

_Wonderful,_ Knock Out thought, though even he wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. _She'll take me to her mechanic shop, fix me up. Then when she leaves, I can get out of there without anyone noticing. I just hope she'll be careful with my finish..._

She began to drive him, and soon the race track was out of sight. She'd gone a fair way down the road before she sped up and patted the dash. "Boy, I lucked out." She glanced in the rearview again and smiled, but it looked to be a more sinister smile than the grin she'd given in the mirror just moments ago. "I can't wait to see what you've got under your hood. I bet you have some good parts."

_Why, thank you,_ he thought, mentally smirking. This girl knew her cars, apparently. _All my parts are of the highest, most current quality and I'm sure... wait. I don't have any internal damage._ A sense of dread filled him as he realized just what she'd said. He couldn't place this feeling of unease, but he got the feeling that her words were not a good thing for him. _Why would you need to get under my hood?!_

* * *

**Uh oh Spaghetti-Os! It seems that Vanessa is not what she appears to be. What reason could she possibly have for getting under Knock Out's hood?**

**Well, I know. But you guys won't know until next chapter! I have dropped a few hints though.**

**I would love it if you bribed me with a review, and thank you all for reading! ^^**


	2. Chapter 2

**OoO An update on a story, and a NEW one at that, within less than a week? You all must be thinking, WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?!**

**But the more appropriate question would be... CAN YOU SMELL-A WHAT CLIFFJUMPER IS COOKING?!**

**Because if you can, you're too close and should probably be running. You mess with Cliff, you get the horns. And those things are SHARP, man.**

***ahem* The fact that I am updating this is my friend's fault, again. XD I blame him for everything, don't I? He got me in a Knock Out mood.**

**Also, is it bad that I now have a girl crush on TFP Arcee? I had to make a video about her this morning. I usually don't make videos about the girl characters I like, but Arcee... she's jsut beautiful and badass. Like Airachnid, only, you know... likeable. |D**

**By the way, two words: ARCEE'S HIPS~ Ladies, when Arcee walks, I dare you to look at those hips and not either be insanely jealous or fall in love. (I feel like such a pervert because I keep looking at her chestplates... *shame shame shame*)**

**Anyway. This story is not about Arcee! Get that through your thick head, authoress, jeez... stop going on about your becoming gayer than Knock Out's purse!**

**... I just said that, didn't I? *nervous grin* Well, uh... BYE!**

**At least I mentioned Knock Out. There's a little bit of humor in this chapter, but toward the end, SHIT STARTS GETTING REAL.**

**Also, I don't know all that much about cars, but I did attempt to do my research on the Aston Martin DBS V12, for the sake of this story. I'm not all that into cars, so shows you how far I'm willing to go for Knock Out! Because whoo, is he one sexy little auto! If I got something wrong, please do forgive me, this is my first time really getting into car/engine specifics.**

**Hope you guys likee!**

* * *

It wasn't a terribly long ride back, but it did take some time. They had to keep themselves out of the way, after all - a mechanic shop further out than the normal ones. Vanessa had to laugh when she thought about it, because she and her team had everybody fooled. Did all these idiots here in, as she called it, "the village," _really_ believe she and the guys were just running a low-maintenance, rinky-dink little auto repair game?

She chuckled just a little, slowing down as she neared her destination. "Jasper's such a backwater town," she commented to herself as she made the turn and began driving into the garage.

She tried to roll down the window, but it seemed to be stuck. "Great," she muttered, undoing her seatbelt. "Another part of this car that doesn't work." The radio was apparently faulty, as she'd tried playing it a couple times on the way and got nothing, and now so was the window. She couldn't sell parts that didn't work. Maybe the car was just a giant piece of crap after all.

Well, no way to know until she got a look at that engine block.

She practically had to kick the door to get out, because the lock didn't seem to feel like budging. She climbed out and, after grabbing the keys, slammed the door. "Yo, Tony!" she shouted, walking around to the Aston Martin's hood. Hadn't she told that dumbass to have her stuff ready? Where the hell was he?

There was a clang from somewhere in the back of the shop, at which she rolled her eyes. Then came Tony's voice, loud and obnoxious and carrying on the wind as usual. "_Sí, jefa?_"

"Where the hell are my tools?" She opened the car door back up and bent down to look for the hood release lever. "I told you I wanted to get inside this thing the minute I got back!" She found it, and yanked on it, waiting to hear the click of the hood popping up. "Get me a fucking prop rod too!"

As she was straightening herself up, she heard Tony yell at her again. "_Tengo la cosa abierta!_" He sounded annoyed with her too, but oh well. He'd get it over it, he always did. "I'm coming! _Kenny, estás usando la llave puto mal! Estúpido!_ Do I have to do everything around here?!"

"_Si no me grites, que tal vez podría concentrarse!_" came Kenny's answer. Wow, she'd forgotten that the kid was way more obnoxious than Tony ever was. "You're not the only one who can speak Spanish, you dickhead! I may not have the accent, but I can talk circles around you all day, **_ese!_**"

Vanessa growled as she lifted the hood up farther, tossing her head backward to see if those morons were coming or still arguing. "_Chicos, ya basta!_" If they wanted her to yell at them in a different language, if that would get them to put a cork in it, she could do that. "Just shut up, and _one of you dumbasses bring me my toolbox!_" She turned back to the car's engine block with a huff. She wasn't leaving this car just so she could deal with those two. Not this time. This car demanded all of her attention.

She quickly looked down, drumming her fingers against the side of the hood as she continued to wait for her workers. She peered into the car's inner workings, feeling like a little kid on Christmas morning, and immediately raised an eyebrow at what she saw. It was the standard, fancy setup for the engine block of this Aston Martin model. V12 engine, twelve cylinders with four valves per cylinder, and the added accessory of an active bypass valve. And yet, there were all these extra parts. Besides sparkplugs, torques, all the valves, there were a bunch of things she couldn't identify.

"What is all this stuff? Pssh, doesn't matter... you're nice anyway," she mumbled, leaning down and searching for the safety catch lever under the hood. "So much power, I bet your engine is worth at least-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, the hood just about fell down on top of her head. She screamed and pushed off the car, pulling herself out from under the hood. "Shit!" She grabbed the hood and yanked it back up, thought it seemed to be putting up a fight. "You mother-!" She reached down and smacked her hand on the catch lever, finally securing the hood in place. "God! Don't even want me to touch you, do ya?! _Tony!_"

"Here, _jefa!_" Her toolbox was swiftly deposited by her feet, accompanied by the dark-haired Latino who was currently having a finger-slap fight with the loud Jasper native. "Sorry, the _niño tonto_ over here doesn't even know what wrench you use to take apart a V-twin engine's nuts and bolts!"

Kenny hissed, waving his hands at Tony's face. "I'll use a wrench to take apart _your_ nuts and bolts, you know-it-all!"

"Hey!" Vanessa delivered rapid justice onto both of them, a backhanded smack on their faces. "I don't wanna hear you two freaks for the next _hour!_" She peeked down into the engine, then grabbed a wrench from her mess of tools. "Bring me a couple of catch pans. I need to drain the oil and antifreeze before I start working on this thing."

"On it, boss!" Kenny stuck his tongue out at Tony and started toward the shelf on the other side of the room. "You need separate ones?"

"Probably not." She squatted down briefly to sneak a peek at the car's undercarriage and see where the fluids came out. "Just hurry up, I wanna tear into this thing already. Can't wait to get that radiator off and polish it up."

As Kenny walked back over with the catch pan, the Aston Martin's engine revved, and Vanessa blinked several times as she stood back up. "Damn. This car has been glitching the whole way back!" she complained, crossing her arms and looking over at Tony. "The radio, the window - now there's something wrong with the engine!"

Tony chuckled. "Maybe you left the key in?"

"No, I took it out." She patted the side of her jeans pocket. "I got it right here."

"Well..." Tony scoffed and scratched the back of his head. "Maybe _la coche,_ she takes offense to your thinking her engine's dirty."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Well, it looks like it hasn't been cleaned in a long time. Don't blame me, blame this... this _Knock Out_ guy."

"Oh?" Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "Her racer?"

"He left after it got in a wreck." She sat down and snatched the pan from Kenny, then laid down on her back and scooted herself under the car. "I mean, this thing isn't in the best shape right now, but I think we got lucky that most of the damage is to the paint job. Once this thing is just scrap metal, the paint won't matter. I guess the wreck actually did us a favor, huh?"

He reached down and handed her the wrench she'd put down. "Here you go, _jefa._"

"Right." She analyzed the undercarriage before moving toward the oil valve. "Alright, let's get to work."

* * *

Knock Out had been willing to cooperate with her up until they entered the shop. After all, maybe her comment about getting under his hood just meant she was being extra cautious and checking for internal damage. And if there was some, well then, she'd done a very good job, hadn't she? Of course, if that was the case, she could pat herself on the back, because he would have been out of there as soon as all attention was off him.

Unfortunately, although the faded, blinking neon sign above the garage read _Little Ness Auto Repair,_ the place didn't look to be anything of the sort once she pulled him into it. He saw parts from other automobiles strewn about, tools lying on tables. Oil stained the floors, and the place just looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a while. A few lightbulbs were flickering above, which made the setting seem straight from the screen of some human horror movie. It was enough to even make _him,_ a mech who regularly dismantled other bots, nervous.

He tried to put up with all the remarks this human made about him. It was difficult enough with what she said about his radio and his window, but he managed because those were his own doing, trying his best not to make this easy for her. It got worse when he realized she really _was_ going under his hood, and had barked at her apparent servants to bring her tools and a prop rod. He was always uneasy about anyone working on him, mainly because as a medic it wasn't very reassuring to be put into someone else's hands. _He_ was the doctor. _He_ should be able to fix _himself._

He shouldn't need this... this _skinjob_ to be opening him up and fragging with his anatomy!

It wasn't the most comfortable feeling he'd ever experienced to have that woman's hands inside his hood, looking at his engine and sizing it up - and from that one comment, wondering what his engine was worth in human currency. He rarely did things with glee, but it was actually in that manner that he overrode the manual release lever and slammed his hood down onto her squishy little organic head. He would have laughed at her reaction, had he not been trying to keep a low profile at the moment. _Knock Out: 1, Skinjob: 0. I wonder if that damaged her internally._

Then she began talking to that other man, the one she called Tony. It was bad enough that she called the other boy to fetch her a pan that she was going to _drain his fluids into,_ but it just got more insulting when Tony referred to Knock Out as "she." Why did humans assume all cars were female? It didn't make sense. Not to mention the fact that there were far more mechs than femmes.

Talk about adding insult to injury...

He was a little flattered that the skinjob had bothered to remember his name. The humans tended to forget about things if it wasn't anything that directly concerned them. However, that wrench in her hand was about to be going somewhere he _really_ didn't want it going. If she got the oil valve undone and started emptying his internal fluids, that was the beginning of the end. She was going to take him apart! She was going to tear him apart and _sell him for scrap!_

He wouldn't stand for that. He couldn't. He barely tolerated other _mechs_ touching his _finish,_ let alone this _skinjob_ taking a wrench to his _internal parts_ and ripping everything away. The very thought scared him. It was degrading, and not to mention he'd be able to feel every second of it. What had already happened to his finish was bad, but what she was going to do was a hundred times worse - utterly, unthinkably worse!

It was almost like a reflex. The minute her wrench touched the valve to unscrew it, he transformed.

After a moment of twisting gears and rotating limbs, he found himself thankfully under a high ceiling, though at the moment he was pushing its limits. He looked down at the humans, seeing that the men had dropped what they were holding and were staring wide-eyed at him. The smaller one was trying to stammer something out, but mostly all he managed was, "B... B-Buh... what... huh... _ffffff...!_" Such articulation.

The taller one, Tony, shifted his gaze from Knock Out to the female skinjob several times. It didn't look like he could do much else, but at least _he_ wasn't trying to force out words when he had none.

Knock Out himself looked down to see the woman lying between his pedes, and though her eyes weren't quite as wide as the others', it was clear that what he'd done had surprised her. She was still holding her wrench in the same position it had been in, preparing to unscrew a valve cap that wasn't there anymore. Her mouth formed a little _o_ shape, and she was blinking constantly, almost as if she didn't know exactly how to respond to this new development. "What the hell..." Ah, so _she_ could verbally express herself even now. Good, maybe he hadn't frightened her too badly and she wouldn't go running off and he wouldn't have to chase after her to slag her.

He put his hands on his hips and glared down at her. He wasn't quite sure himself how to handle this situation, since he'd basically just revealed himself in front of three humans. But he'd be slagged before he left this get the better of his intimidating nature. He was a Decepticon first and foremost, an inquisitive mind second. "What was that about _working on me,_ little skinjob?"

* * *

***GASP* Oh teh noes! Knock Out just transformed in front of some humans. In his defense, they were getting ready to disassemble him! He couldn't just sit there and let that happen, now could he? And I, as the authoress, have a sworn duty to protect Knock Out's finish. *holds out card* I even took a hypothetical oath. :)**

**KO: *groan* Unfortunately, it's perfectly legit. I gave her a degree and everything. *grumble grumble***

**Anyway, I should probably be getting back to writing since this left y'all with a cliffie. But first, few things to clear up.**

**Just want to clarify, Tony is Spanish, but Vanessa and Kenny aren't. They speak Spanish because, well, working with a Latino, you're bound to pick up some of the language, even if it's just because you want to yell at them to get their ass moving. XD**

**Which leads into my final order of business, Spanish translations! I got these from Google Translate since I don't speak Spanish, but I tried my best to make sure they were right. If they're not, please tell me and I'll correct it immediately! That said, here's what I have:**

**Sí = Yes (I'm sure everyone knows this one!)**

**jefa = boss (feminine as opposed to masculine "jefe")**

**Tengo la cosa abierta! = I've got the thing open! (he's referring to Vanessa's toolbox)**

**Kenny, estás usando la llave puto mal! = Kenny, you're using the wrong fucking wrench!**

**Estúpido! = Stupid!**

**Si no me grites, que tal vez podría concentrarse! = Maybe if you don't yell at me, I can concentrate!**

**Ese = man/dude/homeboy (this is the slang meaning though; the formal word "ese" just means "that" or the letter S - in this story, it'll pretty much always be the slang meaning)**

**Chicos, ya basta! = Boys, knock it off!**

**niño tonto = dumb kid**

**la coche = the car (this is the feminine version, because *snicker* cars are traditionally addressed as female... so basically, this is some humor with Tony accidentally calling Knock Out a girl)**

**Hope you enjoyed, and reviews are not only welcomed but loved and given a good home!**

**Thanks for reading! ^^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well! Been a while, hasn't it? XD**

**Sorry for the wait, I got, uh... distracted, lol. Lots of other stories. Hehe.**

**Well anyway, in this chapter, it's revealed that Vanessa got a, erm, better car than she realized. But then, of course, things get heated. They always have to with KO, eh?**

**This A/N is short, lol.**

**Hope y'all enjoy~**

* * *

Vanessa had just thought maybe the car's transmission was acting up when she heard the sort of whirring, gear-clanking noise. She certainly hadn't expected the thing to just randomly rise up all around her, a mass of shifting panels and turning cogs, and become a 20-some-foot-tall robot. Of course, who would expect something like _that?_ The only person who might expect that would be a total lunatic.

And then it _spoke._ She could hardly believe what was right in front of her eyes. What had just happened here? The car she was going to tear apart had just, like... transformed into a giant robot or something! The Aston Martin was a giant robot. And she'd been about to dismantle the shit out of it... _him..._ wait, was it even a he? _God,_ she didn't know anything anymore.

She didn't know why, but the first thing she said to it-or-him was, "What the hell did you just call me?"

"_Skinjob._" Based upon the deep voice, she decided upon the fact that yes, the thing was a he. And _he_ looked kind of pissed. "It's a word to describe you annoying little humans. Since I don't know your name, I can't make an insult out of it, so that's what I have to call you."

She looked up and down, from his feet to his face, and shook her head just to make sure this wasn't some kind of hallucination. Kenny had been known to spike drinks - of course, she hadn't had anything to drink since she got here. "Well..." She slowly got to her feet, dropping the wrench and kicking it off to the side. "My name's Vanessa. Do you..." She didn't dare to get any closer, but she didn't know if she wanted to back up either. "Do you even _have_ a name?"

He stared at her for a few seconds, then smirked down at her. "My designation is Knock Out."

She raised an eyebrow up at him. So... the racer's name was really his? Maybe it was just her, but that didn't seem like the wisest thing to do if you were a giant transforming robot trying to keep a low profile. Hell, _street racing_ in the first place didn't seem very smart if you were trying not to be noticed! "So there..." She crossed her arms over her chest. "There was never anyone driving you back there?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes I engage a hologram in the form of a human, though it's... on the fritz at the moment." He flicked his fingers and laid them against his chassis, leaning back a bit. "And even though it _is_ the form of one of you skinjobs, it's just as handsome as yours truly."

Vanessa snorted, tossing her hair. "Well, you sure think a lot of yourself, don't you?"

"I could say the same about you." He took his hand - servo? - off his chassis and gestured around the garage, to the various parts and pans and tools laid out. On the tables and shelves, even on the floor. Following his gestures, she noticed suddenly how messy the place was. For God's sakes, hadn't she told Tony and Kenny to at least clean the stains off the floor a million times? "What... _is_ all this, anyway?"

She took one step back, picking up her wrench and tossing it in her toolbox. "It's called a chop shop, honey." She handed the box to Tony, virtually shoving it into his chest. She was a little afraid to take her eyes off this Knock Out guy, but she wasn't backing down. He was on _her_ turf, after all - in _her_ shop. "You know how people steal cars? Well, this is where they bring 'em. Me and my boys take 'em apart and sell 'em."

"Oh?" He puts his servos on his hips, still looking around. "So you're basically a murderer."

"Oh, _yeah._ Sure, sweetie." She snapped her fingers at Tony and Kenny to get them out of the room, and she wasn't surprised by how fast they ran. She then decided to hop up onto a table and fiddle with a carburetor that had been there. "Except I've been at this for almost three years, and I haven't yet had one car, you know... _talk._" She glanced up and cocked her head to the side. "Confession time, sexy little Aston Martin?"

"Oh, come now... _Vanessa._" He stepped forward, and thanks to the length of his stride, now he was pretty close to her. "You _must_ understand that I'm no ordinary automobile."

She rolled her eyes before turning back to the carburetor and trying to distract herself. If she didn't play with _something,_ she knew she was going to go into shock. "Yeah, I kinda figured that when you turned into a giant robot the second I touched your oil valve cap. That a sensitive spot for you?"

"No, not... particularly." He reached up and rubbed at the side of his head. "I'm just the kind of mech who likes his personal space. And besides..." He pointed a finger at her, and she took notice of how frighteningly sharp the tip of it was. "There was the fact that you were going to _rip me apart._"

She chuckled mirthlessly and shook her head. "Yeah well, look. Taking you apart, it's nothing personal - just business. Forgive me for thinking you were a sexy car with a powerful engine and a nice body frame and nothing more."

"Ahhh." He didn't touch her, but he did scratch his fingertip down the side of the table that she was sitting on. "So even _you,_ a mere little skinjob, possesses admiration for my beautiful finish."

She glanced up, scoffed, and tried to keep a smile from tugging at her lips. "At the moment? Not so much, my dear. Need I remind you that you just got into a fairly serious wreck? Your paint job is scratched and scuffed in so many places, you look like you've been through a war."

He groaned, and by how vain he seemed, she had to admit that she'd seen that coming. "Don't remind me, _please._"

Vanessa suddenly thought of something, and even though she couldn't believe how casual they were both being, she looked up in curiosity. "Does it... _hurt?_"

As he'd been sulking over his finish, he had to blink and look down. "Come again?"

"The scratches on your paint job," she repeated, uncrossing her legs. "Do they hurt?"

He looked down and brushed against a couple of cuts across his shoulder. "... Yes. I believe it's what you humans refer to as 'a burning pain.' I assume it'd be equivalent to the pain you'd feel if these scratches were on you."

"Ouch." She set the carburetor aside, leaning forward a bit. "You fix it, like... the same way you would on any normal car?"

"With oil, a buffer, and ridiculous amounts of pain medication," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chassis. "Although I wouldn't expect you would have the kind of pain medication that I use. It's a... special kind."

"Wouldn't doubt that." She blew out a breath, pushing some bangs back. "Well, either way, you owe me a car, sweet rims."

He looked down at her, and his eyes were somehow deadpan and furious at the same time. "Excuse me, _Vanessa?_" He didn't sound too angry, though of course that meant nothing.

She shrugged. "I think I was pretty clear, but I guess you need an explanation. I was going to take _you_ apart and sell your parts, but apparently that's not going to work. You know, because... you're a living, thinking... thing... who could probably step on me."

"'Is moving closer to stepping on you with every passing nanoklik' would be the correct phrase," he interrupted, putting a servo on his hip.

She pouted. "_Anyway,_ since I now have no new car to tear up, you have to get one for me. Or help me get one."

He thrust a long, slender metal finger near her face, taking a step closer. "Look, _fleshbag,_ just because you found me _injured,_ that doesn't mean I'm your servant. I thought I'd do you a favor by being grateful to you for repairing me, but it turns out you'd rather rip me apart. I have better things to do than obey some little skinjob who stands there and commands me around like she owns me _after_ she was about to dismantle me."

She raised an eyebrow and reached up to shove his claw out of her face. "I'm _sitting,_ smartass."

After giving her a long, hard glare, he withdrew his servo. "You listen good, skinjob, because I'm only going to say it once more. I'm not doing it, you're pathetic, and you don't _own me._"

She happily returned the glare. "I never _claimed_ to own you, Knock Out. I just think it's fair that you repay me for losing out on you. Your frame _alone_ would have gotten me $1000! I could have lived on that for two months. Maybe three." She held out her hand in the shape of a gun and pointed her finger at the side of her head. "Congratulations, you just shortened my life, Iron Man."

"I'm not going to do anything you say, _Vanessa._" He glanced around the shop again, probably attempting to avoid her eyes. "And if you think I am, your little organic processor is damaged. I have more important things to do than help you on your little... _errands._ I have to fix my finish and... and the others are probably missing me." He offlined and onlined his optics, then offered up a rather unsettling grin. "Yes, that's it! I'm their doctor. They're _helpless_ without my knowledge. Not to mention they're so much of a blatant fashion disaster it should be a _crime._"

She snorted, then slid off the table and dusted her hands against her jeans. "Oh yeah?" It was her turn to cross her arms over her chest. "If they're so dependent on you, why aren't they _looking_ for you? Seems to me that if they really needed you that much, and if you were _really_ that important to them, they'd do anything to find you. You've probably been gone for a few hours, haven't you? I would think they'd get worried."

He opened his mouth to say something else, then it appeared that something occurred to him and he shut his mouth. Briefly, anyway. "I don't see what your point is. They probably don't even know that I'm gone."

"Exactly." She tossed her hair. "What kind of friends are they if they don't even notice you're not there? If it was me in your position, Tony and Kenny would at least know that I was gone, even if they didn't come looking for me."

"Whatever you say," he sneered, "I'm still not doing what you tell me. I believe the phrase you humans use is something along the lines of... _'You can't make me'?_"

"Oh yeah?" She reached down and picked up a soldering iron that had been lying on the floor. "If you don't drag your metallic butt out there and find me a car I can profit from, I will cut you up _so bad-!_"

"_Jefa, jefa!_" All of a sudden, Tony ran back into the room and grabbed her wrist. "Don't do anything you're gonna regret later!"

Vanessa jerked her arm away, successfully freeing her hand. "Hey! Didn't I tell you to vamoose your little behind outta here?!"

"I was just hiding over by the doorway," he answered, albeit rather sheepishly. "Look, you guys don't wanna just kill each other, do you?"

She stiffly turned her head away from Knock Out, crossing her arms again. He, on the other hand, sounded like he had to stifle a laughing fit.

Tony groaned. "Seriously? You two are hopeless. But come on, why don't you put all that anger to better use than just beating on each other?"

Vanessa scoffed. "What? You're gonna lead anger management class now? That's a laugh, Tony. Tell me another one."

He grabbed the soldering iron out of her hand and shook his head. "You know that ain't what I meant, _jefa._ I was thinking of a little contest to settle this. Why don't you guys race?"

Knock Out snickered. "Are you honestly suggesting that I waste my time racing against _this_ little skinjob?" he queried, jabbing a claw toward the shop owner. "Please. I would cross the finish line before she even got her automobile started up."

"Oh yeah?" Tony turned to the robot, putting both fists on his hips. "If you're so sure you'll win, _ese,_ what have you got to lose, huh?"

"You're insane," Knock Out responded, snarling. "I'm already covered in wounds; you want me to go out there, expend energy, and get hurt further?"

"News flash, _Knock Out,_" Tony retorted. "People do it every day. It's called life."

"Tony," Vanessa spoke up in a low, forced voice. "You _know_ I don't race. Not anymore."

"_¡Y usted!_" He turned to her and put the soldering iron down. "The Vanessa I know wouldn't just back down from a challenge. She'd face her fear, race this guy, and keep her reputation! If people stop thinking of you as tough... _¿qué to queda?_ People stop coming here."

"You can't make me race, Tony!" She turned around and pressed her hands tightly down on the table. "I told you when I hired you, I'm never racing again..." She reached out and swept everything off the table with just her arm. "_So why the hell do you have to keep bringing it up?!_"

He put a hand on her shoulder and roughly turned her back around. "Vanessa, we coulda got a lot for the car he was. _¿Sabes que?_ You know that. So come on, make him get another car."

She looked down at the ground, refusing to even glance up at him or Knock Out. "Tony, I don't even know if I can take him. You - You didn't see this guy race. He's _good._ Up till the other driver started cheating, he... he would have won."

"Come on, _chica._" He gave her a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You're good too. You've won almost all of the races you've ever done. That's not a horriblerecord, you know?"

She punched him back, but on the chest. "You know when the last time I raced was? Three years ago, Tony. I'm rusty."

"What would you even have to offer?" Knock Out interjected into the conversation, looking smug as ever. "I can't think of anything you have that I'd want."

Vanessa shoved Tony aside and glared up at the robot. "You know what, huh? You're assuming you'd even _win._"

He smirked down at her. "Of course I am. _Because I would._"

She hissed, and she _really_ wished she could get up on his level and... and spit in his faceplates or... or _something._ "You know what? You're an ass. I deal with people like you every day, but I'm gonna deal with you different. So here's how it's gonna go. If _I_ win, you help me find another car I can take apart. If _you_ win, I'll fix up your paint."

"Ha! And who says I _want_ your fleshy, grabby little hands all over my finish?" He brushed a claw over his chestplate, almost as if he were offended by the very idea. "You would just mark it up."

"Oh please, you self-entitled freak of nature." She was seriously considering up and kicking his leg. He wasn't doing much to convince her he deserved anything but that. "In between jobs, I do a _lot_ of body work. I'll buff out those scratches, paint every inch of you, and shine you up so much people will think you're a freaking _mirror._"

"Hmmph..." He glanced down, then toward the closed garage door. "Well... hmm. Alright then, I suppose. So if - _heh,_ well, I mean, _when_ I win, we'll be coming straight back here, then?"

She curled her lip and barely restrained herself from just going at him. She turned slightly and elbowed Tony sharply in the shoulder. "You ride with him, out to Rough Ridge. Make sure he doesn't try any funny business. Meanwhile..." She looked back at Knock Out, giving a smirk back in response to the one he'd given her moments before. "I'll dust off White Lightning. See you in fifteen, _Knock Out._"

* * *

**OOOOH. I think shit just got real~**

**Spanish translations!**

¡**Y usted! = And you!**

**¿qué to queda? = What's left?/What do you have left?**

**¿Sabes que? = Do you know that?/You know that?**

**chica = girl**

**Anyway! I don't want to make me A/N too long this time, so I'm just gonna 'vamoose my little behind' outta here~**

**Thanks for reading! ^^**


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